marjorie realized at last that her strength was completely exhausted; she was only too willing to remain in bed, and to allow lily to call up her parents and inform them of her condition. she even promised to go home as soon as her family sent for her.

a change came over queenie as she grew fully aware of the seriousness of marjorie’s condition. now that she herself was safe, her own troubles were forgotten; all her anxiety was directed towards her captain.

“your father is going to drive out for you tomorrow, marj,” lily informed her as she returned from the telephone booth. “and miss hawes is coming right away to take you to the infirmary.”

“then i can’t be with you?” asked queenie, almost pathetically.

“i’m afraid not,” replied lily. “but i’ll look out for you. i’ll take you down to dinner with me tonight.”

“oh, i couldn’t! i have nuthin’ to wear that’s decent. i’d disgrace you sure!”

“wear one of my dresses,” murmured marjorie languidly as if the effort to talk were too much for her.

lily beckoned to her visitor to follow her out of the room.

“we won’t bother her, queenie. i’m sure she’ll be all right if we leave her alone.”

“i’m afraid she’s going to be sick!” wailed queenie stifling her sobs.

all during dinner she was very quiet, as she sat beside lily in marjorie’s demure little gray dress, no one would have thought her to be any different from the college girls about her—only younger. except for a short walk after the meal was over, she remained in the girls’ sitting room all evening, anxiously awaiting news of her captain.

the next morning she learned to her relief that marjorie was better, that the fever with which she had been afflicted during the night had subsided, and that the doctor thought it would be safe for her to go home in a closed car. this news brought queenie not only hope but occupation; for the next hour she busied herself by packing marjorie’s things. at eleven o’clock the machine arrived.

in a few words lily explained the situation about queenie to mrs. wilkinson, and the latter gladly consented to take her along. then she gave her attention to marjorie.

the girl lay listlessly against her mother during the long ride, her head pillowed on her shoulder,211 her eyes closed. mrs. wilkinson was more worried than she would admit even to herself.

she found queenie very useful when they reached home; the girl did not spare herself in any way when she found that she could really help. she knew, too, that marjorie’s mother was grateful; as long as she could be of service to her captain she was content.

yet, after the patient had been put to bed, and a doctor summoned, she found time suddenly very heavy on her hands. jack was not at home; mr. and mrs. wilkinson were too pre-occupied to talk to her, and she began to feel lonely. dinner had been gloomy and tiring; she wondered how she would get through the evening.

she tiptoed into marjorie’s room, and sat down by her bedside. the sick girl looked up and smiled, assuring her that she felt better.

“you ought to go out somewhere this evening, queenie,” she whispered. “put on my violet-gray voile that you like so much, and go to the movies.”

“oh, miss wilkinson, i couldn’t enjoy a show with you home here sick!” she protested.

“but if i insist?” asked marjorie.

before she could reply, mrs. wilkinson entered the room softly, making sure that her daughter was awake before she ventured to speak.

“mr. richards is here, marjorie, asking for you. i told him queenie was with you, and that she would come down if he liked. he seemed very much pleased—so run along, dear. you need a change!”

“why, i’d love to,” admitted queenie, trying not to appear too eager. “if—if—miss wilkinson wants me to.”

“by all means,” replied marjorie. “and slip on my dress, queenie—and take my gray cloak, so you can go out if you want to.”

“thanks ever so much!” said queenie, stooping to kiss marjorie’s finger tips. “if anybody sees me, they’ll think it’s you—revived in short order.”

within five minutes she was down in the living room greeting her caller.

“mrs. wilkinson suggested that i come down and see you—if you can stand me!” she blurted out.

mr. richards beamed; he had always admired queenie’s frankness.

“maybe that is the very reason i came,” he retorted. “you know i could have inquired miss wilkinson’s condition over the telephone.”

the girl’s eyes lighted up with happiness; once more she was glad that she had been rescued from her silly adventure. if she were to see more of him—and of men like him——

but he was asking her to go to the movies.

“no, don’t let’s go yet,” she aroused herself to reply. “i want to talk to you for a while——” she hesitated, as if she did not know exactly how to begin. “it’s this, mr. richards: i sort of want to take a new start. your rescuing me from that213 lemon made me wake up. my, wasn’t it funny the way sam ran when he seen—saw—you two? guilty conscience, i bet!”

“we certainly were lucky to beat that train,” remarked the young man. “hadley’s a good driver.”

queenie was silent for a moment; she wanted to express her gratitude and yet she could not find the right words.

“i guess i’ll be thankful to you two for the rest of my life—and miss wilkinson, too,” she said finally. “and there’s one thing i want to ask, did you and mr. hadley think of it yourself, or did she put you up to it?”

“no, we did. but the credit of most of it goes to mr. hadley.”

“but you were interested enough to help him. i wonder why?”

“because,” answered the scout-master seriously, “i think you are too fine a girl to waste her life on such a fellow as that man is. i believe you could make something worth while of your life.”

“what?” demanded queenie eagerly. “that’s just what i want to talk about. you know i quit my old job, to come here with miss wilkinson.”

“what do you think you would like to do?” he inquired.

“i don’t know yet. but not sell stockings at a basement counter.”

“would you like to study stenography?”

“i don’t think so. clara abrams is doin’ that—don’t214 let on to miss wilkinson, for she’s plannin’ to surprise her when she lands her first job—but it doesn’t look good to me. i’d like to do somethin’ with people. i’m awful sociable.”

“yet you don’t like selling?”

“no, i don’t.”

“well, i’d like to think about it, if you are willing to take me on as an advisor. i can keep my eyes open and try to hunt up something for you.”

“will you really?” queenie beamed in appreciation.

“i will—if you’ll let me come to see you and tell you all about anything i find.”

she blushed in genuine surprise.

“you mean you actually want to see me, when you could be spending your time with girls like miss wilkinson?”

the young man laughed heartily.

“i can like you both, can’t i?” he suggested.

“of course, unless you was—i mean were—plannin’ to go steady with her.”

again he laughed.

“i’m not planning to go steady as you say with anybody at present. i’m too busy and too poor!”

queenie looked at him timidly. “i want to ask you something,” she faltered, “what would you say instead of ‘goin’ steady’ with a girl? it seemed to strike you funny.”

“i guess i’d say ‘engaged’—become engaged, i mean. why?”

“because i want to get to talk like miss wilkinson—and you. will you correct me?”

“certainly,” he agreed. then, rising, “now let’s go to a show—i think you need an outing.”

“all right—only—one thing more. will you make me out a list of books to read?”

“yes, i’ll send you one. i’ll write to you tomorrow. now, run and get your coat.”

he put the gray cloak around her shoulders and they descended the steps together, arm in arm. at the same moment a car drew up in front of the house, and its occupant gazed at the couple in amazement. could it be possible, thought john hadley, that marjorie was well enough to go out with walter richards?

“there’s no reason why i should be angry,” he mused, “for she hadn’t any engagement with me. but it does seem funny. guess i’ll stop in and ask about her, as if i hadn’t seen a thing.”

stepping out of his car, he assumed an air of indifference as he mounted the steps and rang the door-bell.

“is miss marjorie in?” he asked of the maid.

“yes, sir, but she’s ill,” came the surprising, the unbelievable reply, for had he not just seen her, in her gray cloak and dress, that he liked so well?

he forgot to say that he was sorry; he only bit his lip in chagrin.

“will you come in?” invited the maid.

“is mr. jack home?”

“no, sir.”

“then i won’t come in, thank you,” he replied.

“shall i tell miss marjorie that you called, mr. hadley?”

“yes, i wish you would,” he answered grimly.